


How to Have a Home

by SkyeDragonDraws



Series: rain and needles [2]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, ghost discovers family: the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:22:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25582045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeDragonDraws/pseuds/SkyeDragonDraws
Summary: Nightmares are normal. Ghost is not.
Relationships: Broken Vessel | Lost Kin & The Knight, Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet & The Knight, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Knight
Series: rain and needles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1854088
Comments: 43
Kudos: 295





	How to Have a Home

**Author's Note:**

> KNITFIC 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO HERE WE GO

Their name is Ghost (a title assigned by their sister, so they hold it close to their heart, like all the things she gives them), and they are a sibling.

There aren't many things they can claim to be, but sibling is one of the few titles allowed to the strange not-beast-not-bug-not-god creature that is Ghost, so they hold it as dearly as their name.

(They are lying to themself - there are many words for them (wanderer, homeless, vessel, unholy, flawed), but they only carry a few)

They don't remember  _ when  _ they realized they weren’t a bug, only that they knew it was  _ wrong _ , whenever somebody would call them an strange one.

(Bug is what everybody assumes, when one lacks the ferocity of a beast or the radiance of a god.

They never learned how to explain that their oddness is not due to them being a particularly strange bug; it’s simply that they aren’t a  _ bug  _ at all.)

Perhaps there never was a single realization of their otherness _.  _ They were always aware of the empty sockets of their eyes and the unnatural skin-like softness of their carapace. 

Or maybe there _ was,  _ and they simply do not remember it. 

They don’t remember many things - their mind is as vulnerable to the eroding winds of the wastes as any bug, beast, or god - so Hallownest, for better or worse, is all they really know. 

(They may not know much outside of Hallownest, but they remember the cracked nail on their back being their only friend more often than not.)

*

He’s dead. He shouldn’t be dead. 

Ghost was  _ just talking to him.  _ They were talking to him and then they fell asleep on the bench and he was gone and now he’s  _ dead.  _

Tiso had sat there, Tiso had  _ told them  _ he was going to make it. 

It wasn’t like Myla - he wasn’t infected. 

It wasn’t like Quirrel - he still  _ had  _ a purpose. 

He was  _ following  _ it. 

Tiso was doing everything  _ right.  _

And he is still dead. 

(For the first time, Ghost examines  _ failure  _ as an option. It leaves a bad taste in their mouth, knowing it could be  _ their  _ mask broken, and their sibling still trapped and screaming and burning.)

*

The day Purl decides on their new name is a joyful one. Ghost is so  _ achingly  _ happy for their gentle, kind sibling who deserves so much better always.

(That night, as they curl up in their bed that’s slowly becoming more and more a nest than anything else, they can’t seem to let  _ go  _ of the choice.

Why does it matter so  _ much,  _ that their sibling was able to change what they had been labeled? Why does it matter that they are still able to be here? Purl has earned their belonging many times over.

And yet, they can’t seem to stop  _ thinking _ .) 

Their siblings are  _ happy,  _ their siblings are  _ home. _

They roll over and attempt to tug the blanket over their head. It catches on their horns, so they give up. 

Purl and Hornet pretend they are welcome to stay with them, but Ghost knows the unspoken truth: this home is not theirs.

(And one day, their siblings’ patience will run out and their nail will be their only companion once more.)

*

The nests sway. The lake below them holds a deceptive stillness.

Ghost’s steps echo oddly on the silk as they make their way through the Hidden Village. They sound little like a weaver and even less like one of the stumbling husks. Perhaps it is their void, absorbing and dulling the sound, or perhaps it is that they are light enough to barely disturb the web as they move, but it takes Ghost some time to notice the noise. 

The threads  _ hum,  _ constantly, a near-inaudible melody nipping at their senses, quieting as they move towards it. 

(Deepnest must once have been a place full of unending music, notes plucked and spun through the air by all the spiders scurrying from place to place. 

Now, the forgotten home of the weavers is an eerie, web of twisting, haunted caverns. The song of the silk is not silent enough for the peaceful atmosphere of the Teacher’s Archives, nor is it loud enough for the constant, rhythmic sobbing of the rain in the City of Tears.

It is unlike any sort of mourning they have come to know.)

The voiceless melody creeps down Ghost’s spine, rattling them to their core. 

Horns brush thread aside as Ghost looks up. The mouth of the Beast’s Den yawns before them, dark and empty.

Ghost reaches back and feels their nail, resting heavily on their shoulders. Firm, comforting,  _ grounding _ . They allow themself a moment to hold the hilt and glance around, feeling the frantic beating of their heart slow.

Nothing but the phantom melody of the silk greets them, until…

The cry echoes through their mind once more.

The memory of the pain drives them onward, as it always does. They have never met the being who called out to them (liar,  _ liar _ ), but Ghost feels certain that they are  _ meant  _ to help them. 

(the word  _ sibling  _ dances at the edge of their shadowed thoughts, flickering teasingly as it evades all their attempts to grasp it) 

They pull their claws away from the handle of their weapon, dropping their hand to rest at their side as they study the gaping hole.

Gathering their courage, Ghost steps through the entrance to the Den. 

The foreboding maw  _ snaps _ shut around them. 

Silk whirls through the air, slicing at their arms and legs and pinning them, binding them forever in this dark little hole.

(They’re going to be  _ crushed,  _ and their sibling is  _ leaving  _ and they  _ have to follow _ -)

**_Thud_ ** _! _

Ghost flails wildly, tightly wrapped in the many blankets that followed them off their bed.

They let their mask fall forward, hitting the floor with a resigned  _ clunk. _

They really,  _ really  _ hate being stuck. 

(By the time they manage to wriggle free, there are several new scratches on their floor.)

Ghost scrambles back into bed, heaving their blankets after them. 

Slowly, both hands pressed to their chest to feel the rise and fall, they take a breath.

Another nightmare _.  _ They know these well. Unpleasant but harmless, certainly not worth waking Hornet or Purl over.

They won’t be able to sleep tonight - or if they do, it will be restless and full of more unpleasant dreams. Still, they try _ ,  _ once more, lying down and burrowing under the sheets. 

(They’ve faced and overcome nigh-insurmountable odds before, but somehow the simple non-action of a peaceful rest eludes them.)

Their attempts are, as they had expected, futile. 

With a tired, noiseless sigh, Ghost pulls themself up into a sit. Their hands shake as they rest them on the windowsill, waiting in silent vigil until the sun begins to rise and their sister wakes, 

It will be safe to sleep then.

(Hornet looks at them oddly that morning, when she rises to them sitting outside her door. They merely shrug. They don’t have an answer for her, any more than they have one for themself.) 

*

Purl and Hornet create the sanctuary of a home with an ease that escapes Ghost.

The ways of a house are not unfamiliar to their siblings, and they seem to instantly grasp routines that Ghost wasn’t aware  _ existed.  _ There are so many tiny rituals of sleeping, and eating, and just  _ being _ together in the same space that are entirely foreign to them.

(Sometimes it hurts, to see their siblings leaning easily on each other, busily picking away at some project or the other, while Ghost can only watch. They’ve always been an outsider, but still, they had once thought this house would be different than the others they have such faint memories of.

They wonder how long it will be, until they’re able to find a  _ home. _ )

(They don’t know if they ever will.)

*

The faint bubbling and acrid scent of acid snatches at the edges of their focus as they study the bone-white mask of the dead sibling. 

The mask is very small, smaller than even Ghost’s, with three nubby horns on each side. 

Their claws brush down it, following the crack that splits their eye and tracing their cheek. The flowers growing in their empty sockets rustle lightly, and Ghost snatches their hand back.

There is no shade here, no  _ sibling  _ here, but they still feel like they’re  _ disturbing  _ something unholy. 

(If the Pale King is holy, if the Radiance is holy, if the White Lady is holy, then holiness is molded in cruelty, and their siblings are the furthest things from holy they know.)

Ghost stands, their cloak falling forward to hide their hands. Underneath it, they rub their fingers together, little claws clicking against each other.

(Are they trying to savor the sensation of touching a sibling who is at  _ peace?  _ Are they trying to rub the feeling of their sibling’s too-smooth mask from their fingers?

They don’t know.)

*

He’s  _ gone.  _

They should know better - a dead body, in a place of scavengers? They were  _ lucky  _ to find him while he was still whole.

The stasis is over. The world moves around them, whether they want it to or not. 

(They’re being left behind.)

*

The last thing they expected to see when they went to visit Oro was a sibling. 

The last thing they expected the sibling to be was  _ angry. _

The furious sibling’s hand tightens on the fistful of cloak they have, but Ghost can feel their nail trembling as it scrapes against their cheek.

**don’t** **_ever_ ** **pull Us together like that,** **_ever_ ** **again** , the sibling’s voice is as shaky as their hands, and underneath the almost  _ sickening  _ amount of anger radiating off them… there’s a swirling ball of terror so raw that simply sensing it makes Ghost feel nauseous.  **that** **_hurt._ **

**won’t! won’t! am sorry! so sorry!** Ghost pleads, twisting against the wall. They hurt this sibling, they  _ scared  _ this sibling, they’re  _ sorry  _ they’re  _ so sorry- _

They are dropped, falling forward to land on their hands as ash billows around them. Ghost skitters backward as the point of the angry sibling’s nail appears in front of their face, narrowly missing their mask as it buries itself in the ground with a  _ thunk! _

**go** **_away_ ** **,** the sibling says. They’re trembling, and their wings are twitching as distress all but physically drips from their voice.

Ghost’s presence is clearly only upsetting them more. With a last, faint  **_sorry_ ** , they grab their nail and turn, running away as fast as they can.

(They’ve always been a  _ coward. _ )

*

Mato always manages to make them feel good, even on their worst days. 

Even when their footwork is sloppy, or their nail strikes are sluggish, the suggestion of “perhaps this day is more for meditation than practice, my pupil” never feels cruel.

He never seems upset when Ghost isn’t good enough. It’s a strange relaxation of the world’s usual standards, where not good enough means cracks in their mask and gouges in their chitin, but they like it.

Still, when Mato stops them from stumbling out the door on a day when they perhaps  _ shouldn’t  _ have tried those last few exercises, and instead ushers them towards his bed and settles them down for what he calls “a well-earned nap before you return to your home, my pupil!” their heart drops.

They had hoped they were allowed to consider this place home.

(It seems that when their siblings are finally fed up with them, they really  _ will _ have nowhere else to go.)

Mato tucks the blanket around them (fumbling and awkward, he’s as unused to doing this as they are to receiving it, but he  _ tries  _ and that warms them in a way they don’t fully understand), and they’re asleep before his hands leave the bed. 

*

Electricity sizzles and pops.

Electricity sizzles and pops and they  _ know.  _

They know they know they  _ know. _

And they  _ hate it. _

They  _ hate it so much.  _

They can feel what is coming. They know the futility, the  _ fragility  _ of safety.

They know it is crumbling underneath them. 

The deadly swarm hisses and sizzles, growing ever closer. They have been running, but they’re out of time.

Ghost’s hand closes over empty air as they attempt to draw their nail. 

Right. They don’t have it.

(They don’t deserve it. In their final hours, even their most constant companion has abandoned them.)

Ghost will face the world, the pain, the  _ end,  _ on their  _ own.  _

The swarm grows closer as their too-small claws sink into the wall behind them, a desperate attempt to climb it that is futile without the mantis claw. It’s futile, there’s no  _ point,  _ it will end swiftly and  _ painfully.  _

(And yet still, they try and try and  _ try. _ ) 

The first charged lumafly lands on their leg and the jolt that travels up their spine loosens their grip on the wall. They shudder, and for a brief second the moss under their claws turns to cold metal. Despite their frantic scrabbling, their hands slip, and Ghost falls. 

(Ghost falls, because no matter how they grab and cling and tear, the light and the world will  _ make  _ them let go eventually.)

Their back hits the ground, and the breath they shouldn’t need leaves their body in a rush, stunning them. 

The swarm descends, and their vision goes dark. 

The world  _ buzzes _ , the world  _ hums _ , and- 

Something is shaking their shoulder. 

Blindly, they lash out, sinking their thorn-sharp claws into the offending arm. They don’t remember where they fell asleep, but wherever it is, they’re not  _ safe _ -

The creature holding them lets out a sharp, surprised noise, and they  _ know  _ that noise, they  _ know  _ that voice-

Oh. Yes, Mato’s. They’d fallen asleep at Mato’s. 

They were in his bed, under his spare robes,  _ digging their claws into his arm.  _

Hastily, they tug their claws out and roll over, hiding underneath the blanket and frantically rubbing their fingers together, as though they could wipe away what they’d just done. 

It’s useless, useless,  _ useless _ . 

“Child?” 

They curl up, covering their eyes. They’re not  _ here,  _ maybe if they’re quiet he’ll realize how sorry they are and they can just go and never come back.

“My pupil, are you alright?”

They  _ hurt  _ Mato. Nothing is alright, nothing is  _ okay,  _ their claws have sunk into another innocent person.

(A sibling lies dead under the cover of leaves. A sibling  _ hates  _ them in the blizzard of ash. When will it be enough? When will it be  _ over _ ?)

Mato is silent for a long moment. It stretches on and on, and Ghost almost begins to wonder if he has lost his voice. 

“My child, May I pick you up?”

That’s… a new question. 

_ Okay _ .

They nod, reaching out with both hands.

Mato’s arms are around them, and before they can really even register it, the world is nothing but the softness of the collar of his cloak and the strength of his arms at their back. 

It’s  _ safe  _ here, in a way they’ve never really felt before. 

With a start, they realize they’re crying. They pull their head away from his cloak and start to rub at their mask, furiously scrubbing away tears. 

Mato’s hand comes up, resting on the back of their head. Cringing, they meet his eyes, but see no judgment there.

They’ve never cried in front of anybody before, but they’re pretty sure this isn’t what’s supposed to happen. 

(They’re pretty sure you’re not supposed to cry in front of people - they’ve seen how their siblings hide it when they’re hurting, and their siblings are better at being alive then they are.)

“Child,” Mato says gently, his thumb making smooth circles on the back of their head, “it’s  _ okay _ to be upset. You can be scared. All warriors know fear, my pupil.”

They press their head back into the ruff of his cloak, doing their best to stem their shaking. Their hands curl around the softness, and it almost feels like this is something  _ for them.  _

(They don’t have any  _ reason  _ to be upset - they faced Her without tears, without  _ fears _ . Ascending to the pantheon’s peak was mechanical - a process of fighting and dying that's become easier than sleeping.)

Time passes. Ghost isn’t sure how much - the world is a blur of one of the only comforts they’ve ever received, and they’re nearly asleep by the time Mato shifts his grip so he can sit down on the bed.

He settles them in his lap and they slide off, moving over until there’s space between them. 

This is the calmest Ghost has  _ ever _ felt after a nightmare, and they know better than to push their luck.

Catching Mato’s eye, and doing their best to make it clear in the dim lighting, they sign “thank you.”

“You know signs?” Mato asks them, a note of surprise entering his voice.

Oh. They haven’t really… signed in front of him before, have they? They’ll probably  _ have  _ to, now that he knows they can. 

(Despite the clarity signing brings, it is harder. Their thoughts stick to their mind, and do not like being made to exist through their fingers.)

“Sister has been teaching. Not… very good. ” they let their hands slip under their cloak, and look away, doing their best to hide the tension in their shoulders. 

The only words that have ever come easily to them have been the ones gifted to them by the void. They wondered, once, how far their father’s command of voicelessness extended. Before their sister had been patient enough to teach them her signs, over and over and over, the language of hands had been nigh-impossible for them to grasp. 

“I am delighted for you to speak at all, if you wish to,” Mato rubs their back. “But if you don’t, we’ve gotten along perfectly fine without before.” 

Ghost sighs, dropping their hands into their lap. They don’t know how to feel. They're…  _ glad,  _ they suppose, that their usual communication won’t change, that they can still play the game of charades that makes Mato hide laughter in his eyes while he guesses at what they’re saying.

But… 

Oh. They want to say something. They want to say something  _ specific. _

Ghost looks up, and tugs on his cloak. Once they’re sure they have his attention, they extend their pointer and middle fingers and tap them together.

“Name.”

“You have a name you wish to share with me?” Mato’s voice is unreadable. 

They nod. “G-H-O-S-T,” they sign, slowly, like it’s a confession. 

(It is, in a way. Of their impermanence, of how they aren’t meant to be alive, of how they will slowly fade until exorcised.)

Mato’s arm wraps around their shoulders, and suddenly they’re hidden under his cloak.”I am honored that you would share your name with me, Ghost.”

His voice is strangely louder, tucked against his side like this. It’s strange, hearing how it travels from his chest, out into the world 

They fall asleep, protected by something other than their own nail for the first time ever. 

*

Purl makes a slipknot. It’s a practiced motion, in which the thread slides smoothly onto their needle. 

(Ghost almost feels like an intruder, watching them. They’re not supposed to  _ stay,  _ when it’s happy.)

Their sibling bumps the side of Ghost’s mask with their own. 

**want me to show you how?** They offer, like they always do. 

**no,** Ghost replies, like they always do. They hop to their feet, reaching for their nail.  **gonna go out.**

**where?** Purl asks them, curiously. 

Ghost shrugs, already heading towards the door. They push it open, step out, and stop before closing it. They take a moment, to soak in the strange peace of the house. 

(It’s so much easier to see it from the outside.)

*

_ Did I hurt you too?  _

Dew soaks through their cloak, making them shiver as they lean against the stone. Their smallest sibling lays next to them, the foliage dotting their crumbling body undisturbed. The shell is a small puddle on the cobblestone floor, and the mask is soft to the touch, periodically emitting white motes of soul.

Ghost can’t bring themself to touch the body again. There’s an unholy sort of peace to it, this rotting scene. 

While the world was under Her stasis, siblings were not allowed the final peace of decaying. Now, at last, this sibling has been allowed to  _ leave. _

Ghost should not allow themself the selfishness of missing this sibling. They had not earned their silent companionship, so they do not deserve to be sorry to see it go. 

(Not when they’d hurt this sibling too, if what the other sibling at the bottom of the world said was true, then Ghost hurt  _ all  _ their siblings.)

Ghost stands, their cloak swishing forward to hide their small body. 

They won’t find forgiveness here. 

*

The wind howls, trying to force them back. Their claws sink into the ash as they struggle forward. 

(they always go forward - at this point it’s less a matter of  _ wanting  _ to, and more that they don’t know  _ how  _ to go back any more.) 

Ghost wants to  _ beg  _ it to stop. They  _ know,  _ they  _ know  _ they aren’t welcome here, but they don’t know what else to  _ do. _

The cliff containing Oro’s hut looms through the storm. It’s much quieter here, now - the Great Hoppers didn’t survive long past the infection’s death - but the silence doesn’t do more than set them on edge. 

A familiar lopsided silhouette cuts through the swirling ash, and Ghost feels the familiar whisper of void brush their mind. 

**sibling-** they try, reaching out as best they can. 

**no!** the reply hisses back before Ghost can even finish their thought.  **go** **_away! leave!_ **

They freeze, and for a moment, the only motion is two tiny cloaks whipping in the wind.

Ghost’s hand drops and their nail weighs on their back as they turn to go, plodding through the ash with a heavy heart. 

*

Their nail is on their back. The bed is made, as neatly as they can make it, and the only sign of their presence is their shadow on the floor. 

Leaving would be easier. It would be  _ better.  _

(Ghost can’t make themself walk out the door.)

*

The city shakes with rain.

It is crashing over the roof tiles and overflowing gutters, wearing away stone and shell with sheet after sheet of torrential rain.

The ceiling of the cavern wears thin, and Ghost can do nothing but watch. 

The gears of the telescope they are peering through are rusted and  _ useless _ , so they can only see a small portion of the city.

What they  _ can  _ see is enough.

(They see the truth of this place, in how the city is no longer merely washing its streets of sin with soft, manageable tears.

No, in its death throes?

The city is  _ howling. _

The city is  _ screaming. _

And the city is out for  _ blood. _ )

The water rises.

From their tower, Ghost watches the rest of the city be consumed by an ancient, ravenous thing.

As the last viable spires are swallowed by the floodwaters, Ghost feels the current lapping at their feet.

They cannot look down, cannot witness their own destruction. They must keep one eye trained on the telescope, and the other tightly closed.

Rain drips down the lens as the alcove protecting it caves in, but they keep watching. 

(Did the architects of this city ever question the rain? Did they ever try to support the ceiling worn thin by mortal hands and time? Or did they accept the inevitable, knowing it would never affect them?)

The sea climbs up their legs, making their cloak rise and lower almost playfully with its starving waves, and sending icy fingers clawing at their back. 

They are still. Nobody but they will witness this, and it is their duty to see it. They must  _ see  _ and  _ see  _ and  _ see  _ until they  _ remember _ .

The water is a void of icy darkness, pulling at their mask and whispering in their mind. 

_ Come to me,  _ it says with a voice like cobwebs,  _ aren’t you tired of the Light? _

They are slipping, they are falling.

Falling, falling, falling, buffeted this way and that by a current that does not care. 

The water slips over the tips of their horns, and Ghost-

Wakes up.

Their limbs shoot out, clawing for something,  _ anything,  _ support, a platform, a-

Their foreclaws sink into the bed frame, but their legs hit the wall, sending two loud thuds echoing through the tiny house.

Not a moment later, the sound of near-silent footsteps racing down the hall makes their stomach drop. 

Sure enough, their sister’s head pokes through the curtain. “Ghost?”

They stay still, hoping she decides that they’re asleep. 

More footsteps. “Ghost?” She’s leaning over the bed now. “Are you in danger?”

They shake their head. No, no they are safe, in this house, with their siblings. 

(For now. They are safe for now, they are here  _ for now. _ )

“Very well.” Their sister’s cloak swishes as she turns to go. 

Their hand shoots out, catching a fistful of fabric in their claws. 

Hornet  _ whirls  _ around and grabs their wrist. They feel her grip tighten, and they brace for her to yank their hand off with a warning hiss, but instead, she forcibly stills herself. “What?” 

They scoot over, doing their best to make obvious space for her in their bed. 

She sits down, meeting their eyes and cocking her head. They know what this means - what she’s asking without words. 

Despite her piercing voice, their sister is not one for speaking either. 

_ What’s wrong?  _

They know she’ll hunt for an answer no matter what, so they end the chase before it begins. 

“Hornet,” Ghost signs, slowly, clearly, “I don’t want to be a ghost.” 

“What?” 

“I don’t want to be dead. Or fading. Or forgotten.” They pause, gathering their courage, and then continue, “I don’t want to  _ leave. _ ”

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” their sister’s hand tightens on their shoulder. “What do you mean,  _ leave _ ?”

“Ghosts haunt places and nobody likes them and everybody is happier when they’re gone,” they continue, their signing growing sloppier. “I want you to  _ like me,  _ and I don’t want to  _ leave. _ ” 

“Ghost-  _ sibling, _ ” Hornet fumbles for a moment. “I don’t… I don’t  _ understand.  _ If you don’t want to leave,  _ stay. _ ” 

“But ghosts make people upset.  _ I  _ make people upset.” They curl up tighter, squeezing their eyes shut and resting their forehead on their knees. “I don’t  _ want  _ to make you upset.” 

(they remember, the echoing of the web, leaving a trail wherever they go. Bodies shift underneath their feet. The climb beckons them.)

(They remember, the crackling of the lumaflies and the moss turning metal under the claws. They scrabble and yet they  _ fall.  _ The world buries them.)

(They remember, the water rising until it washed them away, and how all they could do was  _ stare.  _ Masks shatter around them. They turn to  _ watch. _ )

Hornet makes some more noises, and it seems she’s trying to find the words to speak, until she is interrupted. 

_ Knock knock knock.  _

Both Ghost and Hornet start, and their heads snapping towards the curtain. 

It has been pulled aside. Purl is there, bent over so they can fit through the doorway, with their knuckles resting on the doorframe.

“Purl? What are you doing up?” Hornet asks. “It’s late - shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

They give her the flattest look Ghost has ever seen them give another bug, before pulling their hand off the door frame to sign. “Yes.”

“Aren’t you… going to sleep, then?” 

They make a show of yawning, the mouth normally hidden under their mask popping out during the exaggerated display. “Yes.” 

Ghost feels a silent giggle well in their chest. They press both hands over their mask, but their shoulders are shaking. 

Hornet sighs with a special sort of weariness. 

Purl makes their way over to the bed, carefully avoiding the various blankets and knickknacks scattered across the floor. They rest their hand on the top of Ghost’s head, scratching at their horns in just the way they like, and lean down to bump the forehead of Hornet’s mask with theirs. 

**sibling,** they rumble through the void,  **come sleep in my nest. tell Sister to as well. you both are tired.**

Ghost tugs on Hornet’s cloak to grab her attention. When she looks down at them, they sign: “Purl says ‘sleep in my nest, you’re both tired.’”

“Purl-” Hornet cuts herself off. “Ghost, I  _ still don’t know what you mean. _ ”

Oh. They had… they  _ had _ said that, hadn’t they. They hadn’t really meant to, and they’re not sure  _ why. _

(It’s quicker, when Ghost reminds others that they will be forced to leave, sooner or later.) 

It ends here, they suppose.

“I d-don’t,” they wrap their arms around themself, tugging at their cloak and drawing their knees to their chest. 

**sibling?** Purl’s hand leaves their head, and rests on their back.  **are you well?**

“ _ Ghost? _ ”

“I don’t want to  _ leave, _ ” they sign, and then suddenly they can’t bring themself to force their words into existence any longer. 

Purl’s arm wraps around them, tugging Ghost close. It’s another hug, another sort of safety that feels like  _ theirs _ alone. 

(They should savor it, before it’s no longer for them.)

They feel Purl’s hand move - signing something to Hornet?

Ghost doesn’t know. They press their mask into Purl’s side, clinging to their cloak like it will turn to water and slip through their fingers. 

Purl’s hand returns to their back.  **sibling?**

**yes?**

The larger vessel pulls them closer, and Ghost feels the hand move, to take one of theirs. 

**don’t know what’s wrong,** Purl says,  **but will stay. stay for** **_you,_ ** **sibling.**

(Liar, liar,  _ liar. _ Ghost has been left and left and left and they will be left  _ again  _ and  _ again  _ and  _ again. _ )

**but you** ** _didn’t,_** Ghost replies before they can stop themself. **you** ** _left._**

Hornet makes an alarmed noise as Purl stiffens, their grip on Ghost’s hand tightening.  **_sibling?_ ** **what do you** **_mean_ ** **?**

Suddenly, they’re  _ angry.  _ It’s been clawing at them, scraping at them. The inevitability of their abandonment, a consistent pattern since the  _ very start,  _ and their sibling  _ doesn’t care?  _

**was reaching out, was going to** **_fall,_ ** **and you** **_left._ ** **followed him and** **_left._ ** They yank their hand out of Purl’s grasp.  **_fell._ ** **fell and it** **_hurt_ ** **and you** **_left._ **

**sibling-**

**you** ** _left._** There’s tears now, they realize, suddenly, **can’t even remember** ** _why._** **don’t - don’t** ** _know_** **how to** ** _fix. can’t_** **fix.**

**no fixing. no** **_need_ ** **to fix, sibling.** Purl leans down, resting their forehead against Ghost’s.  **not your** **_fault._ **

**then** **_why?_ ** Ghost’s shoulders shake as they reach up, grabbing the sides of Purl’s mask.  **_why did you leave me?_ **

Purl tries to move their arm, to wrap it around Ghost, to comfort their sibling, but halfway through the motion they still, and let out a near-audible hiss.  **need to lie down will explain in nest, okay? tell sister. no leaving, not anymore.** Their voice is heavy as they continue. **am** **_sorry,_ ** **sibling. wasn’t right. you didn’t deserve that.**

**okay.** Ghost releases their grip on Purl’s cloak.  **no leaving?**

**no leaving,** Purl confirms.

Hornet follows them from the bedroom to the nest in the living room with quiet footsteps. When Purl settles in the nest, tucking Ghost under their chin, their sister perches on the ragged couch, watching her siblings closely. 

Ghost turns their attention from Hornet to Purl.  **_why?_ **

**many reasons. did not** **_want_ ** **to leave you sibling,** **_never_ ** **wanted to leave you,** Purl assures them, nuzzling the top of their head.  **_not_ ** **your fault.**

**then** **_why?_ ** Ghost presses. 

**the Light called,** Purl says.  **couldn’t resist. am sorry** **_every day,_ ** **did not know it hurt you so badly.** **_never_ ** **wanted to hurt you, sibling. never will again. staying** **_always._ ** **if you leave, come with. love you, love you** **_so much_ ** **-**

Their voice cracks, trailing off. They hold Ghost tighter, pressing the little vessel to their chest. 

**_love you,_ ** they say, so quietly that Ghost can barely pick it up,  **_so sorry to ever have hurt you._ **

**love you too,** Ghost says.  **forgive you, for leaving. please... don’t leave again. was scared.**

**never leaving again,** Purl says fiercely. **_never_** **again. love you too much. loved you since hatching, sibling.**

**hatching?** They try - there was an egg, they  _ dream nailed the egg,  _ but still, they can’t recall.  **can’t remember…**

**can’t remember?**

**wastes,** Ghost explains.  **can’t remember...** **_anything_ ** **from before, except falling. remember falling.**

(It feels like they’re still falling, wind whipping at their cloak and tearing tears from their eyes, most of the time.)

**do you want to? will tell - in the morning** , they add hastily.  **sleep first.**

…  _ do  _ they want to?

**good memories?** They ask tentatively.

Purl shudders.  **no. hard memories. will tell you, if you** **_want_ ** **them. if you don’t… will** **_make_ ** **memories, here, with you. better ones,** **_good_ ** **ones.**

**really?**

**for you?** **_anything,_ ** Purl assures them.  **sleep now. tell sister to come lie down too. goodnight, love you.**

*

Hornet finds them the next day. Purl is still asleep, flopped loosely in their nest and soaking up the late morning sun. 

“You needn’t be a Ghost,” she says, sitting down next to them. “It was a name given in haste when I still believed you to be empty. It is not a name you should bear if it causes you pain.” 

“Want it,” they tell her. “You gave it to me, so I want it.” 

(Their sister’s kindness hurts sometimes - her mercy is a harsh one, but she’s never  _ cruel.  _ They know the gift of their name was not some bitter joke.)

“Gh- Sibling, I don’t know if that’s  _ wise, _ ” Hornet toys with a strand of silk. “Names are important. You should not be saddled with one that harms you.”

“I said I didn’t want to be a ghost because ghosts… can be hard,” they explain. Their signs are slow, unpracticed, and they often have to resort to poorly fingerspelling words, but they have to say this  _ right,  _ in a way their sister will understand. They have to say this right, for  _ her _ . “Ghosts can linger where they shouldn’t, can haunt you and remind you of things they want to forget. Ghosts belong in the past. I didn’t want to belong in the past. I wanted to belong with  _ you. _ ” 

They shift closer, cutting off Hornet before she can speak again, and reach their hand out. “I don’t want to be  _ a  _ ghost… but being  _ your  _ Ghost, here… I would like that.” 

“Oh,” says Hornet, looking down at their hand. “ _ Oh. _ ”

She takes their hand. 

(They are welcome here, however they are.)

*

Their sibling is long gone. 

The only sign that at one time, a not-bug-not-beast-not god laid here is a patch of foliage too dark to be natural. 

Ghost sits before them. The unholy peace of the clearing was shattered some time ago, as the last of the void seeped through the stones. 

There’s nothing left for them here, but strangely, they don’t need to  _ go.  _

(Perhaps they can make something here.

It’s small, not much more than a collection of pebbles and twigs piled too high to be strictly natural, but it’s a sign that something - somebody -  _ was  _ here. 

And that is enough.)

  
  


*

**stay away,** the sibling says.  **told you,** **_stay away._ **

**will stay away from** **_you_ ** **,** Ghost replies,  **want to visit Oro. Purl wants to see you.**

**Purl?** The sibling asks.

**Hollow.**

Their wings flare, and they take a half-step towards Ghost.  **are- are they okay?**

**yes.**

**heard them… under Her. they were** **_not_ ** **okay** , the sibling says. They’re shaking, and Ghost can imagine how tightly their hands much be clenched underneath their too-long cloak. 

**okay now.** **_better_ ** **now.** Ghost assures their sibling. **want to see you. come see them?**

**see them. not** **_you,_ ** the sibling snaps. 

**okay.**

(The sibling ignores them, and refuses Ghost’s help as they stumble upwards towards Dirtmouth, but they do learn their name.

This sibling is Lost, and as they pointedly inform Ghost, Lost is the way they’re going to  _ stay  _ to Ghost.)

*

Tiny hands meet metal buried in ash. 

The shield makes its home in the house. Maybe he wouldn’t have liked that - too safe, too stable, not adventurous enough, but Ghost remembers how he cared more for his weapon than himself. 

(Ghost hopes he knows they’re caring for it now.)

*

They hear the shout, and before they realize what’s happening, their legs are taking them to the living room as their heart races. 

That was  _ Hornet’s  _ voice. 

What-

_ Oh.  _

**come join us, sibling,** Purl purrs from across the room. They’re laying in their nest, eyes-half closed with contentment.

Hornet is underneath them, looking significantly less content. “Let me  _ up _ !” she scolds, pushing on their arm. “It’s not even sundown! I’m busy! I have things to do!” 

“You are very busy napping, yes,” Purl signs to her as they rest their mask on her chest. “Sleep time now. Goodnight. Love you.”

“ _ Purl! _ ”

“Can’t hear you, I’m asleep.” They purr, a rumble Ghost can feel from across the room. 

“Ghost, get them  _ off.  _ I have to get up and- oh no don’t you  _ dare _ -” She hisses at them (without any real anger) as they curl up against her side, resting their hand on Purl’s mask. 

“Sleeping now,” they sign to her, letting the purr rumbling in their chest spill out.

Hornet lets out a weary sigh. “You’re both  _ terrible _ ,” she complains, laying her hand on the side of Ghost’s mask and affectionately rubbing their horns. “I’m getting up earlier than usual tomorrow, to make up for lost time.”

(From the way Purl’s hand tightens on the blankets, Ghost knows she will  _ not  _ be getting up any time before mid-morning.) 

Ghost is asleep before Hornet’s breathing evens, lulled by the comforting presence of the two people they care about most in the world.

(Perhaps it takes them many evenings like this, and many more nights of troubled sleep and curling up next to their siblings.

But slowly, surely, they realize:

Their name is Ghost (given to them twice over by their sister - at first as a declaration of what they  _ should be,  _ and then as an expression of what they  _ are)  _ and they are  _ home _ .)

**Author's Note:**

> oh my god this thing took me!!! a month and a half!!!! what the hell ghost!!! work with ur local skye!!! i'm trying to help you!!! let me help you!!!


End file.
